


Disaster

by MizJoely



Series: Sherlolly AU Prompts [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Clueless Sherlock, F/M, Fluff, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5421155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock can't quite get the hang of being romantic, despite his best efforts. Will Molly mind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> never-too-old-to-be-a-fangirl said: Have only just seen this! I’m almost always on mobile where I can’t even see that I’ve received a message :-( Happy to be of some help and yes, I’d love a little Sherlolly if the offer is still open! So many good AUs listed on your blog - decisions, decisions… I leave it up to your inspiration/mood between these two: “i forgot my umbrella and you offered to walk me home in the rain and i thought this would be the beginning of a cute love story but you’re really shit at this oh my god my shoulder is so wet, hold the damn thing properly wth man” au (because their height difference makes me swoon) OR “You were trying to be romantic/seductive but you ran you hand over my thigh and I’m ticklish and now I can’t breathe.”
> 
> I said: I decided to combine these two into a ‘Sherlock can’t quite manage to get the hang of being romantic’ fic. Hope you like it!

Disaster. That was the only word for it: complete and utter disaster. Sherlock Holmes, World’s Only Consulting Detective, was utter crap at romantic gestures. Molly would realize he could never be the man for her, that he wasn’t good enough at any of this, and leave him. And he’d deserve it, not just for ruining the roast he’d tried to cook for their first dinner together.

No, she’d leave him because of the umbrella incident. He’d been doing his best to act like a perfect gentleman and keep the rain off her as he walked her back to her flat. If he’d just let her take the Tube home like she’d wanted to, he’d never have accidentally dumped a veritable waterfall of icy rainwater down the back of her jacket, soaked her jumper, made her screech and jump, cause him to lose his footing, and land them both in a puddle just in time to be splashed by a passing cab. At least the driver had seen them sprawled on the pavement and stopped to offer his assistance. Molly had gratefully accepted his offer to drive her to her flat free of charge (although he’d charged Sherlock for the ride to Baker Street after dropping Molly home) and even managed a bit of a smile for Sherlock when he tried to apologize. “It’s all right,” she’d said with a bit of a shrug. “I wasn’t expecting this to be some cute love story moment.”

She’d gone a bit red as soon as she’d finished speaking, turning and fairly racing up the four steps to the front door and vanishing inside.

And all that because he’d misjudged her height. So much for his keen powers of observation.

The next day he’d marched into the morgue and let her know that yes, he actually HAD wanted it to be a cute love story moment. He hadn’t messed that part up; he’d taken Molly in his arms and kissed her thoroughly. Well, yes, it was when they were both standing over a body bag, but the zip was still pulled so that was all right, no matter what John said afterwards. Oh, and yes, John and Gavin had been there, but Molly hadn’t seemed to mind in the least.

That had been a month ago, and it seemed like the kiss was the last thing he’d really got right in this whole relationship business. Well, no, the other kisses had been just as good, but as for the rest of it…Molly didn’t appreciate the flowers he’d sent her, as she associated them with death and they depressed her. John had (thankfully) stopped him from adopting a kitten for her to keep her old tomcat Toby company (although he kept the idea in the back of his mind for after that rangy, mean-tempered animal finally passed away). Too bad he hadn’t been there to caution Sherlock about running his fingertips up Molly’s thigh during their first heavy make-out session on the sofa at Baker Street, although to be fair, there was no way John could have known Molly was so ticklish either.

Still, her giggles had utterly destroyed the mood and Sherlock had been a bit gun-shy since then, not wanting to make any more mistakes.

And yet here he stood, staring morosely at a burnt roast, eyes stinging a bit from the smoke that was dispersing throughout the flat now that Mrs. Hudson had opened his sitting room windows. He’d just nipped down to the store to get a bottle of Molly’s favorite wine and had timed it precisely; the blasted roast shouldn’t have been ready for a good five minutes after his return!

The sound of footsteps on the stairs caught his attention; whirling around, he tried to forestall Molly’s entrance, but it was too late. She stood in the doorway, staring around with wide eyes, coughing a bit and waving her hand in front of her face. “So,” she said after a minute, looking over at him. “Take-away, then?”

He gaped at her as she calmly removed her coat and shoes, hanging the former on a hook near his Belstaff and setting the latter next to his loafers. She sat her handbag on the coffee table, curled up on the sofa and gave him an expectant look.

He shuffled over to join her, allowing her to tug him down to sit next to her. She reached up and carded her fingers through his hair, putting it back to some semblance of order after he’d set it all wildly on end in frustration. “Sherlock,” Molly said softly, “you do know you don’t have to do all this for me.”

“I want you to be happy,” he mumbled, leaning his face against her neck and draping his body more or less over hers. “Meat Dagger did all sort of things for you. Romantic things, you said so. Not just sex, but other things. Took you to the pub and for walks with his dog…”

“And I was utterly bored and broke things off with him,” Molly reminded him. “And don’t call him that, his name is Tom and you know it.” She swatted him lightly on the shoulder, then returned to stroking the back of his neck as she continued speaking. “I don’t need romantic clichés, Sherlock. I just need you to be you, just like you need me to be me. You haven’t asked me to change, and I would never ask you to, either.”

He pulled back a bit so he could look her in the eyes. “You mean that,” he said wonderingly.

She nodded and smiled, leaning forward to give him a soft peck on the nose. “I mean it,” she confirmed. “Now. How about Indian? I could murder a good curry right about now!”

Smiling back, Sherlock gave her a rather longer kiss on the lips before hopping to his feet to fetch his mobile. He put in the order, tossed it to the coffee table next to Molly’s handbag, and snuggled down next to her again. “It’ll be here in about twenty minutes.” His gaze turned as smoky as the room as he asked her, “Any ideas how to pass the time till it gets here?”

“Oh, one or two,” she conceded as she allowed him to lay her down on the sofa. “Just remember not to tickle my thighs!”

With a growl, Sherlock dove down and erased her smirk in the most satisfying manner. He really was glad that he’d relearned kissing with such an obliging partner, and was even more glad that Molly didn’t think he was such a disaster after all!


End file.
